Time
by longingparadise
Summary: The time in the asylum passes fast and Will learns to appreciate it.


Time passes quicker than Will thought it would in a asylum.

It's really nice, how everything is neatly organized in a way his former life was not and Will can't help but think he has gone already a little more crazy for thinking that.  
Whatever. Who cares? Will certainly doesn't. Not anymore.

The first time he actually starts to appreciate this place, is when he can manage a night with six hours of sleep. No nightmares, no waking up in the middle of the night, no terror.

Those dreams were horrible but he only realizes how much they really strained him when they were gone.

And as William lies in his cot and feels the piece in his mind and in his body he thinks he's flying. That's how light he feels and he never wants to lose this feeling. In this moment the cot seems like cotton candy and the blanket like protecting arms, that are shielding him from the cruel world he doesn't want any connection to.

It becomes the first time he actually understands why people actually don't mind sleeping and dislike to get out of their beds in the mornings.  
Will doesn't want to get out anytime. And he means it. Not in a few minutes, hours or days. If it was up to him, he would spend the rest of his life in his newfound paradise.

The world outside is horrid and it hurt him often enough.  
The world that has been created for him in here means protection and warmth.

It's a slow process. At some times Will hears the voice of sanity in his head say _this is not normal_.  
He shrugges it off. When was normal ever good and who says insanity is bad?  
He knows the answer and smiles under his blanket and goes back to sleep.

No one really cares and that's just fine with William. Why should anyone care if he sleeps through the whole day? He takes his meds and does everything he is told to. They wish they could say that about all the inwards.  
Every time he gets his pills, he wonders which one is it. The white one, the little red one, the orange-crimson one or one of the others? Which one is his angle that brought him to his own, personal heaven?

After much more time passes, Will begins to eat less. It doesn't happen all of sudden and every time there is just a smidgen more foot left on his tablet than the meal before.  
He has no particular reason and he doesn't even notice it, until he doesn't want to eat at all.  
Whatever.

Maybe months passed, maybe years. He doesn't know, nor does he care.

The first time he is woken up by someone, he is irritated. He doesn't realize what's happening and panic weighs down on his chest when the guard tells him that someone has come to see him.

Will's breaths are getting shallower. He can't go out, he can't talk with anyone and the only thing he wants to is staying here. But he forces himself to calm down because throwing a fit wouldn't help him and maybe they'd punish and take his cell away, or his bed, or the pills. The pills that gifted him with oh so sweet sleep.

It turns out to be Hannibal.  
Will hadn't cared who it was. Alana, Jack, Hannibal, Lounds,… it was all the same to him now.

The guard tells him to sit on the chair in front of Doctor Lecter. After checking the cuffs around his wrists and ankles again, he leaves them alone.  
Wills feet are crossed and his hands are neatly tucked away on his thighs.  
It's then Will actually realizes how thin they are. Well. Whatever.

It's quiet. Will surely isn't going to initiate conversation because if it was up to him he'd be in his nice little cot and doze a little.  
Hannibal came to talk, so he should start.

For a very short second an old curiosity spikes in William. He wonders what Dr. Lecter may look like now and if his features have changed. Will didn't knew because he didn't even look Hannibal in the face. He minded eyes then but now, he notices, he also minds faces. He isn't used to it anymore, you don't see faces in a dreamless sleep. He feels better that way and he gets all the information he needs from the body language. Why look more into it? Why torture yourself unnecessarily?

But the countless hours of sleep didn't erase his memories. The broad shoulders, the straight back, the slim and strong upper part of the body and, of course, the immaculate suit and tie. Will seriously didn't need to see Hannibal's face to recognize him.

"Hello William."

Dr. Lecter's voice didn't sound any different from the last time he spoke with him. The deep, confident tone was the same as always.

As Will wants to answer because it should be the right thing to do, he opens his mouth to speak up.  
For a moment he forgets how to talk or how to even let a tone come out of his throat. But after, it slowly downs on him and he knows what to do again.

"Hello ."

Hannibal leans forward and it's completely neutral to him. The Doctor always hid his thoughts very well. Will realizes that this character trait was one of the main reasons he was so captivated with him. Dr. Lecter was a source of calmness and peace. He had been good for his stressed out, damaged mind.  
_He_ had been, what sleep is _now_.

Will smiles nicely, not in Hannibal's direction, but it _is_ actually aimed at him. His former psychiatrist has given him his peace of heaven and Will would always be thankful for it.

"I see you are in a good mood William."

Will doesn't know what one says to that, so he sticks to nothing, his expression still open and friendly.

"I admit I have thought you'd still be angry and bitter."

It sounded like a question.

"Why should I? That'd be rude."


End file.
